Children of the Gamma

chapter one || i

[ word count : 2,636 ]

I launch out of bed, my skin on fire. Slip on a puddle of my own blood. Crash to the floor, knees and elbows following.

Not real not real not real. No fire, no blood.

Breathing hard, I sit up, sweat cooling on my skin. I'm okay, I'm safe.

A knock at my door makes me jump.

"Cecil? You all right in there, sir?" One of the staff on their way to start the day's work load.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good." Shakily, I get to my feet and sit on the edge of my bed. Examine the burn scars lacing across my arms and chest.

"Well...you know where we are if you need anything."

"Thanks."

The servants stopped rushing in to see if I was dying about, oh, six years ago. Right after it became routine. Three years after-

My alarm goes off, the face flashing 5:30. I switch it off and survey the room, trying to ground myself. My desk remains piled with papers, holographs, notebooks, sketches. Overhead, the holographic hexagon modeling Solada rotates lazily. From the wall switch, I turn up its brightness, casting my room in green light.

After a cold shower and dressing in jeans and a white shirt, I pack my bag-note-taker, change of clothes, windbreaker, portable holo, thermos. Briefly I survey my notes and graphs from yesterday. Then, before I leave, I stand in front of the window next to my bed and watch the sun rise, glinting on the lake's glassy surface. Blazing on the horizon. Bleeding across the clouds, red, pink, orange.

Satisfied, I leave my room and walk down the hallway, scooting to the side as servants pass by.

Shouts and orders drift from the open kitchen. Inside, Gia and her workers rush around, making preparations for later meals. It already smells like dinner in there. At the table where my father and I eat, Gia has set out breakfast, along with my lunch for today. I stuff the sandwich, chips, grapes, and cookies in the cooler section of my bag.

Gia hurries toward me and sets a plate down in front of me. "Sorry, Cecil, we're short on time today."

"Is there a meeting today?" I ask, pouring a glass of orange juice.

Her lips are tight as she nods, adjusting the hairnet containing her frizzy brown curls. "As of last night."

I grimace. "He sprang it on you again, I'm guessing?"

She huffs in confirmation, her exaggerated calmness only enhancing the irritation underneath. "It must have come to him on a whim. Whatever it is he wants to talk to the governors about. So..." She gestures at the cooks and workers hurrying through the kitchen. "He says we should be grateful he told us right away."

I scoff, shake my head. "Yeah, he's considerate like that."

She looks down at me, a hand on the back of my chair. One eyebrow lifts. "And the worst part is I know I can expect it from you when you're Upkeeper."

I gape at her with mock indignation. "Now, that's a lie, and you know it." I lower my voice. "My entire agenda will revolve around fixing everything my father's done. Including treating my staff better."

She ruffles my still-damp hair. "And I'm sure you will. But I don't know if you can change your night-thinking thing you got from him."

"Watch me." I fork a piece of cinnamon toast onto my plate. "Do you think you can get Angela to send me footage if it's anything important?"